Poison
I don't know what it is but very ill-
intended. Surely a woman must belong to it.
And something like a laughter.
I am rotating the city on me,
rotating my beauty. That's that!
Many keys, small keyholes whirling.
Gazes cannot be all in vain. And the answer?
Merely a jeer.
The vase hugs and kills me, can't breathe.
Now my features – even with the best intentions –
cannot be called beautiful.
And her? The girl? Her trendy perfume
is Poison. For me a real poison indeed.
And the vase?
It hugs and kills me.
But what am I to do without?
(Translated by Kinga Fabó)
© Kinga Fabó
While In Action
While in action you don’t disturb
me a bit. Just go to bed and sleep.
You’re being so vulgar, hon. And like
snow: soft and sneaky.
Admitted: thirty minutes sentiments, inane
silence, claptrap. Shot. Ladies,
in my ping-pong heart the game is
at rest. Some other time. Perhaps.
(Translated by Katalin N. Ullrich)
© Kinga Fabó
Isadora Duncan Dancing
Like sculpture at first. Then, as if the sun rose in her, long
gesture.
A small smile; then very much so.
The beauty
of the rite shone; whirling.
She whirled and whirled,
flaming.
Only the body spoke. The body carried her
language.
Her dance a spell
swirling the air, a spiral she was
and
her shawl, the half circle around her,
the curve of the sea-shore and
girl,
the dancer and the dance apart…
(Trascreated by Cathy Strisik and Veronica Golos based on Katalin N. Ullrich’s translation.)
© Kinga Fabó
Bio
Kinga Fabó is an acclaimed Hungarian poet (linguist, essayist). Her recent bilingual Indonesian-English poetry book is Racun/Poison, 2015, Jakarta.
Congratulations!
ReplyDeleteCongratulations, Kinga! Hugs!
ReplyDeleteHegely enjoyed.
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